


I Don't Know What Went Wrong

by Little_Cello



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Complicated Emotions, Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 04:11:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Cello/pseuds/Little_Cello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Details of a certain case make Gene see red. The consequences are dire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the whump!bingo over at [Lifein1973](http://lifein1973.livejournal.com), filling the prompt "arrested and beaten up in custody". The title was inspired by the song "Decision/Indecision" by Atomic Rooster.

Sam betrayed him.

 

He betrayed them all, but Gene feels that it couldn't hurt anyone more than it hurt him.

 

Now he is sitting there, staring at the desk. Not raising his gaze even as Gene enters. That isn't the Sam Gene knows.

 

But then again, the Sam Gene knows wouldn't take a backhander, not in a million years.

 

Apparently, though, he has.

 

~*~

 

“ _This is utter nonsense.”_

 

“ _There's evidence against you.”_

 

“ _So? C'mon Gene, you can't really think I'd turn a blind eye to something like that.”_

 

“ _No. I don't. But, and I can't believe I'm saying this, the evidence is really quite crushing.”_

 

“ _I'm sure it'll fall apart as soon as we take a closer look.”_

 

_Gene nodded, believing him._

 

~*~

 

“There's evidence against you.”

 

Silence.

 

“And a witness.”

 

Still no response. Gene wills himself to sit still. Arms crossed, leaning back in his chair. Stay calm.

 

“This witness claims she saw you, talkin' to Miller. She says she saw 'im give somethin' to you. You accepted. Put it away.”

 

He leans forward, placing something on the table. A wad of money.

 

“This. Was found in your jacket.”

 

Sam raises his head slightly to look at the notes. Gene thinks he snorts, but he could also be imagining it.

 

“A few hours later, a man wound up dead. Killed.”

 

Still Sam isn't looking at him. _Look at me. Look at me you bastard, laugh at me, say I'm wrong._ Gene's fingers tense.

 

“We are certain it's Miller who did it. Can't prove a thing though, 'cos there were no one else in the area to witness what 'appened. A plod on duty was sent away mere minutes before by a DI...”

 

Here, Gene has to break off. He leans forward, places his hands on the desk. Fingers curled into fists.

 

“Sam.”

 

Maybe it's something about his voice that makes Sam finally raise his gaze to meet Gene's. He doesn't know what to make of his DI's expression. There is a certain... blankness there, a blankness that almost scares him. It seems to confirm his worst nightmares. He lets a few more moments pass, doesn't feel he can trust his voice not to break up.

 

“DI Tyler. Did you, or did you not accept money from a known criminal individual.”

 

_Say something._

 

Sam looks at him.

 

_Tell me I'm wrong._

 

Sam lowers his gaze.

 

~*~

 

“ _The boss wouldn't do this.”_

 

“ _Yeah.”_

 

“ _Then why's that bird sayin'--”_

 

“ _How the bloody hell should I know!”_

 

“ _Sorry, Guv.”_

 

“ _Guv, maybe someone else should conduct the interview...?”_

 

“ _No. I'll do it.”_

 

_Annie nodded, though concern was written all over her face, while Chris kept looking troubled._

 

~*~

 

Sam is on the floor now, coughing. For a moment, Gene doesn't know how he got there, or why he's coughing, half-way curled into himself. Then he realizes that it was him. He couldn't bear the silence any longer. It made him desperate. It made him angry.

 

He had grabbed the over-sized lapels of Sam's shirt and pulled him close.

 

“Did you accept a bloody backhander, yes or no?!”

 

And still Sam hadn't said a word, just stared at Gene with shock standing in his eyes, shock and... something else. Gene had felt the familiar roar build up in his head, and then he had lashed out. A swing to the side of Sam's head, sending the smaller man flying to the floor, and the next moment Gene is standing over him and he can't help it, he has to kick, he has to.

 

~*~

 

“ _I knew it.”_

 

“ _You what?”_

 

“ _Nothin', Guv.”_

 

“ _If you've got somethin' to say, say it loud and clear, DS Carling.”_

 

_Ray was silent for a second, looking slightly insecure. Then he snorted._

 

“ _Well, 's obvious, innit? All this 'whiter than white' lark, always was fishy. No way he's as squeaky clean as 'e wanted us to think 'e is. Knew it'd 'appen at some point.”_

 

_Gene walked away._

 

~*~

 

“I asked you a bloody question!”

 

Sam smiles, bitterly. Blood is dripping off his split lip.

 

“You won't believe me.”

 

Gene presses his lips together even tighter. He is gripping Sam's shirt again, holding him up by the fabric. “Try me.”

 

Sam scoffs. “I can see it. Your mind's set.”

 

_No. No, it isn't. I want to believe you. Why can't you see?_

 

Gene punches him again.

 

“It's a simple enough question, DI Tyler.”

 

Why won't he say it? Doesn't he trust Gene?

 

“If you trusted me, you wouldn't be asking.”

 

That isn't true. Gene lets go, Sam stumbles backwards, but the reprieve is short. Gene grabs him and pushes him face-first against the wall, arms twisted onto his back. _You don't understand. I trust you. I trusted you. I want to trust you. I need to trust you. Tell me I'm wrong. I need you to tell me I'm wrong._

 

“Did you, or did you not –“

 

“What does it matter?!”

 

Finally, Sam starts to struggle, but it's too late, way too late. It's just the same it was with Harry back then, the bloody same, and Gene can't bear it. The roaring is in his head now, and he knows he shouldn't be doing this, but hell, he can't stop. It's too painful.

 

“It matters if it's Sam 'Whiter Than White' Tyler!” Gene yells, punctuating each of the last few words with another shove and another twist of Sam's arms, until the smaller man chokes out something that might have become a scream, if he were anyone else but Sam.

 

“Jesus, Gene –“

 

“That's _DCI Hunt_ ,” Gene hisses, affirming his point with another shove and a twist, which draws that choked sound from Sam again. Gene would feel better about this if Sam were actually screaming. Which is ridiculous in itself, because there is nothing, absolutely nothing that could improve, _justify_ this situation in any way.

 

“Now answer. The bleeding. Question!” Gene puts more pressure on Sam's arms and back with every word.

 

“Christ – I didn't –!”

 

“Didn't _what_?!”

 

“Take a bloody bribe!!”

 

_Too late, too late Sam, you're too late_. Gene can't see much past the red mist any more. Only if he continues, only if he gets rid of all this pent-up energy, will he be able to see clearly again, will he be able to stop....

 

He grabs Sam's shoulders and turns him around, fists in his shirt and pushing him back against the wall again, taking in the blood smeared across Sam's face and not noticing it all at once. “The witness saw you!”

 

“It was a set-up for God's s –“

 

Gene doesn't let Sam finish, kneeing him in the gut instead. Sam doubles over with a grunt, eyes wide, but he's straightened up forcefully again, because Gene needs to look him in the eye.

 

“A set-up, eh? An' you fell for it like the bloody naïve little tit you are, is that it?” Gene's grip tightens, his knuckles starting to dig into Tyler's throat, but he doesn't care, though he does care, but he _doesn't_.

 

“I didn't –!”

 

“The truth, Tyler!” Gene cuts him off with another shake, his face _this_ close to Tyler's painfully contorted one. “I need the bloody truth, and I need it ruddy now!”

 

The next moment, a sharp stab of pain shoots up from Gene's leg, and he cries out with pain and surprise, stumbling backwards and crashing down to one knee.

 

Sam kicked him. Tyler actually kicked him. He's standing above Gene now, breathing heavily, holding his side in a protective way.

 

“The truth!” he yells, voice laced with pain and despair and everything that makes Sam _Sam,_ “If you wanted to know the truth you wouldn't 'ave suspected me in the first place! For God's sake Gene, I though you were better than that! False evidence, sloppy statements, an obvious motif, it's bloody textbook!“

 

Gene stares up – _up!_ \- at his DI, his _deputy_ , who stares back with that look of his, that look he regards Chris with, Ray with, the whole bloody department with except for Flash Knickers, that look Gene hates more than anything else when it's directed at him, making his blood boil.

 

“If you'd investigated this just one tiny bit more thoroughly, you would've seen it's all rubbish, but _no_ , you 'ad to do it your way, act like a bloody cowboy, all high and mighty, one glance at the statements and you knew I must've taken a backhander, of course, it all makes bloody sense! That _one_ time I needed you to--“

 

Gene throws himself at Tyler, because no-one cuts Gene Hunt off during an interrogation, and _no bloody suspect bloody fights back_ , that simply isn't how it goes. And Tyler still puts up a fight, trying to deflect Gene, recovering his usual annoying, exhilarating self, but it doesn't matter, because he is a suspect, and suspects are _filth_.

 

Being this much larger than Tyler, he throws the smaller man off balance in no time, and then they both are on the ground, Gene on top, and he hits him, his face, his chest, deflects a flailing arm, pins Tyler's wrists down, punches again, punches –

 

He senses the kick even before his opponent has a chance to place it. Gene rolls off him, getting to his feet in a flash, but he doesn't allow the man on the floor to gather himself up, suspects should stay on the ruddy floor, and so Gene stomps down on the man's side, finally, _finally_ drawing a pained scream from him.

 

“The truth is, you've been leading all of us on, preaching water and drinking wine, and don't you dare deny it!” Gene is shouting, his voice sharp and uncontrolled, sending wild swirls through the red mist. “And now that you've been found out, y'don't even think it necessary to cover up yer ruddy tracks, because you thought I'd protect you! Didn't you?!” A kick. “DIDN'T YOU?!”

 

Another kick, and the man curls up into himself with a groan, a sweet and terrible sound to Gene's ears.

 

“How bloody dare you –“ a heel in the man's thigh - “go and” - the tip of his loafer buried in his side - “underestimate CID” - a heel down on his arm - “and” - loafer in ribs - “bloody” - heel in shoulder - “BETRAY” - heel in midriff - “ME?!” Loafer against head.

 

He's betrayed CID, he's betrayed everyone, again, he's gone and betrayed Gene, he's betrayed him, Sam has betrayed him.

 

Sam has betrayed him.

 

Sam.

 

_Sam._

 

Gene stops so suddenly that he nearly loses his balance. _Sam_. The red mist swirls, indignantly, fighting. _Sam_.

 

Gene stares at the ground without seeing a thing. The red mist contracts, then expands, and finally is gone, just like that, from one moment to the next. 

 

But there still is red. Splatters.

 

Someone coughs. Gene blinks. The red is still there.

 

Someone groans weakly. Gene blinks. The red is still there.

 

Someone opens the door. Gene blinks. The red is still there.

 

“Guv, there's new evidence and a witn– Jesus _Christ_!”

 

It's one of his officers, Gene knows. He doesn't know which. Suddenly, none of them seem to have discernable faces. There's only that one face, and it's covered in blood.

 

The figure on the floor – _Sam_ – coughs again, and then Gene's view is obscured by the officer – _Ray_ – kneeling down next to Tyler, trying to turn him on his back, but Tyler cries out, and Ray hasn't even properly touched him, but the smaller man curls up even further nevertheless, as though to protect himself from, from...

 

From Gene.

 

He takes a step back. Has to, or else he would keel over as the realization hits him full on.

 

“Boss – oi, Boss!!”

 

Ray's voice sounds muffled now to Gene's ears.

 

“Chris! Chris y'div, call an ambulance!!”

 

Even quieter. 

 

“Boss, talk to me! Tyler!!...”

 

Inaudible.

 

Ray turns at that moment, staring at Gene. He mouths something, eyes widening with realizations of his own.

 

“... Guv.”

 

Gene's world freezes.

 

 

DCI Hunt turns around and walks out of Lost and Found, leaving bloody tracks in his wake, not uttering a single word.


	2. I Just Can't Find The Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyler survived. This much, the doctors can tell him.

He stares into the empty plastic cup in his hand.

 

He doesn't see it.

 

He sees Tyler, lying on the floor, blood all over and around him. Flinching under his grasp, blindly trying to scramble away, even though that causes him even more agony. 

 

Stupid prick.

 

He sees the Guv, gazing down at the sight in front of him, expression utterly blank. Walking away, as though nothing happened. His loafers leaving a bloody trail.

 

He sees Tyler, again, his breathing raspy and irregular, blood dripping down his chin as he coughs. Hears the sound he makes, a terrible sound, when he tries to turn him on his back, like that makes the pain even worse. He sees how Tyler's eyes roll back into his head as he finally loses consciousness.

 

He sees the bloodstains that are left in Lost and Found when the paramedics carry Tyler off, out of the station, under the eyes of most of the department.

 

He sees Annie, pale as a ghost, hands clasped over her mouth.

 

He sees Chris, much the same, looking sick.

 

Finally, he sees himself, accompanying the medics, sitting in the van with Tyler, stone-faced. He sees himself, watching the doctors rush his Boss off into the emergency ward. 

 

Ray crushes the cup in his hand.

 

How did this happen?

 

~*~

 

Tyler survived. This much, the doctors can tell him. He is in a coma, no telling when he'll wake up, but the quacks are confident it'll happen within a week. Ray doesn't even nod. He instead tells them that, should DCI Hunt show up at the hospital, under no circumstance Is he to be let through to visit Tyler. _Don't you dare tell him which room he's in_.

 

Ray is standing by Tyler's bed now, looking down at him. Most of his body is obscured by the blanket, but even the few things Ray can see are enough to make him feel distinctly sick. Tyler's head is bandaged heavily, one eye obscured entirely, the other black. They cleaned him up, so now the bruises stand out like neon signs from his pale skin.

 

Ray doesn't know how long he stands there for. He needs to go, get away, but he can't.

 

He wants to tell himself it was Tyler's own fault, but he can't.

 

He wants to tell himself that the Guv had a good reason for doing this, but he can't.

 

He can't.

 

Finally, Ray moves – over to the chair, sits down in it. He can't really explain to himself why he does it; it's like an odd sense of... duty that's keeping him there, keeping watch over Tyler for the next few hours, until the nurses throw him out. 

 

~*~

 

The Guv doesn't turn up for work the next day. CID is quiet.

 

Ray has anticipated it, so he isn't really surprised, but it hurts all the same. He dodges questions about Tyler's state, telling everyone that, no, he can't have visitors yet. When Annie catches him alone in the locker rooms, they talk for a few minutes. She's a lot more collected now than yesterday, he notes with something like respect. She doesn't cry, she doesn't even sniffle. He tells her she can go visit Tyler if she wants, but not to expect too much. She nods, falling silent for a moment.

 

“... Ray...how did this happen?”

 

Ray shakes his head. He can't explain it either, not to himself, and even less to others.

 

He stays at the station all day, and only in the late afternoon does he realize that it's because he's waiting for the Guv. But he doesn't show up, not even once beer'o'clock strikes and the detectives stream outside and straight to the Arms. Ray even makes the effort to call Nelson, asking whether the Guv has made an appearance down at the pub. Nelson is sorry to say no, he hasn't seen DCI Hunt since yesterday, and is DI Tyler alright? Ray says no, and puts down the receiver.

 

~*~

 

Somehow, at the end of his shift, Ray finds himself back in Tyler's room. No change from yesterday. He sits down in the chair again.

 

“...Ye probably riled 'im up, didn't ye. Were yer usual poncey self, overstepped the mark.”

 

Tyler doesn't reply. Doesn't even twitch.

 

“ 'e wouldn't just attack one of 'is own. Not without a good reason.”

 

His lower left arm and hand are in a cast – crushed bones there or some-such.

 

“Why didn't you just tell the truth? We know now y'didn't do it.”

 

His skin seems to consist only of bandages and plasters now.

 

“... how did this 'appen, Boss?”

 

No answer.

 

~*~

 

 

An hour later, Cartwright shows up. She's brought a few flowers and grapes. Ray gets her another chair, and they sit down to watch Tyler sleep together. Ray tells himself he's just sleeping, anyway. It's easier to look at him, this way. 

 

They don't talk, but after a while they share the grapes. Tyler shares their silence.

 

When they both leave, because visiting hours are over, Ray thinks they have to do something.

 

But, what exactly that might be, Ray doesn't know. 

 

~*~

 

“Ray, where's the Guv?”

 

Ray looks up from the magazine he hasn't been reading to see Annie, leaning in slightly, staring like she's ready to pounce at him. He slowly lowers the paper to his lap. This is the second day after the incident. No one has seen the Guv since. 

 

“I dunno.”

 

“ 'ave you tried contacting him? At 'ome?”

 

“No.” He's been contemplating it, yes, but something has kept him from driving round the Guv's house. He doesn't know how Tyler does it, paying calls to the Guv frequently enough, but he himself... No, Ray can't bring himself to pay a visit to the Guv, especially not now. What would he say anyway?

 

Annie straightens up, frowning. “But... we need to do something. 'e hasn't shown up for work for two days now...”

 

“Not our problem,” Ray mutters, glancing down at his mag again. “Guv's 'is own man, isnt 'e.”

 

“What? How... how can you say that? Ray, 'e's supposed to be at work, 'e's supposed to be _here_!”

 

Ray looks up again, stunned by Annie's sudden outburst. Deep down, he knows she's right, but... The Guv is the Guv. He takes a breath to say something, but Cartwright isn't finished yet, it seems. 

 

“We can't just let 'im run from responsibility like that! We found out the whole thing was a ruse, he needs to know, and he needs to face what he did to S--” Suddenly, she breaks off, as though she's just choked on something, and looks away. The whole department is looking at her now.

 

The silence stretches on for several painfully long seconds, before Ray lets out a sigh which he hopes sounds authoritative. “Look 'ere, we can't force 'im to come to work, can we. I'd like to see you try, anyway.” Ray pauses, but as Annie glares at him still, an odd glimmer in her eyes, he feels compelled to say something else if only to retain his dignity. “If 'e doesn't show up by tomorrow, send Phyllis to 'is 'ouse. That might bring 'im round.”

 

No one laughs. Annie walks away without another word.

 

~*~

 

Lunch break. Ray walks through the entrance of the hospital, up to reception.

 

“Anyone been to visit DI Tyler, luv?”

 

“Uhm... bloke with dark hair, kinda nervous... Turned up pretty early.”

 

Ah. So that's why Chris was late this morning, the div.

 

“Anyone else? Big bloke, blond 'air, camel 'air coat...?”

 

The nurse thinks for a moment, brow creased, before shaking her head. “No.. don't think so. I didn't see no-one, at least.”

 

Ray nods his thanks and makes his way to Tyler's room, already knowing the way by heart.

 

He opens the door gingerly – not so much as to disturb Tyler, but rather because he doesn't want to stay, should the bloke have woken up.

 

However, the Boss is still out cold, and so Ray walks over to the chair, and is just about to sit down – when he sees a slight movement from the corner of his eyes. He stops, turning to face the prone figure in the bed. Did he merely imagine it, or did his fingers just twitch...? No, there it is again, after a couple of seconds. Curling up slightly, as if to form a fist. 

 

He's waking up.

 

Ray is momentarily frozen, torn between the instinct to leave the room to call the doctors, and the urge to stay and see whether Tyler really is awake, or just... dreaming, or something. Then, he hesitantly takes a step forward, closer to the bed. The hand moves again, Tyler's face contorting slightly.

 

“... Boss?” Christ, he should be calling the doctors after all, this isn't his territory. He doesn't want to be the first one to talk to Tyler after... after what happened. And still Ray finds himself stepping closer to the bed, trying to make out whether his Boss is regaining consciousness or not.

 

There – his eyelids twitch. Ray can feel his heart beating faster, registering the relief at the fact that, yes, Tyler is waking up, he is actually getting over the injuries... And whatever else he feels, he doesn't permit himself to think about it. Because it's not manly to be scared of... whatever it is he's scared of.

 

And then, Tyler opens his eyes. Ray stays where he is, standing a few inches away from the bed, watching him intently. Will he be able to speak? Or maybe those head injuries made him forget everything that happened, maybe Tyler doesn't even remember who he is any more, and Ray suddenly thinks that maybe, this would be for the best...

 

“Boss,” Ray says again, not quite knowing what he is trying to achieve. Tyler's lids are heavy, dropping, and from where Ray stands he thinks his gaze is unfocused and dopey, but at the sound of Ray's voice he turns his head slightly, eyes moving to look at him, focusing with difficulty...

 

A moment passes, neither of them moves.

 

Then Tyler flinches so hard that Ray flinches as well, startled and alarmed. Tyler's breathing is shallow all of a sudden, loud, irregular, and oh God he's backing away, panic standing clear as day in his face, but he's moving too much, he'll pull out the IV tube and he's trying to say something but that hurts him somehow and he seizes up, eyes scrunched shut against the pain, mouth open, gasping...

 

Ray stumbles out of the room, shouting for a nurse or a doctor or anyone who can calm Tyler down, his own heart beating in his throat.

 

~*~

 

After they've sedated Tyler again – doesn't look like he managed to hurt himself seriously, thankfully – Ray drives right back to the station, feeling decidedly sick. This situation is too messed up, he can't deal with it himself.

 

And for the first time, he's angry. Angry with Gene Hunt. Angry with him because he is hiding, and leaving Ray and the others to deal with this, _his_ bloody mess. Angry with Sam sodding Tyler, for doing or saying whatever he has done or said that made the Guv lose control. Angry with Cartwright, because she was right all along and they should have called the Guv and made him bear the consequences.

 

Angry with himself, for being too much of a coward to take all of this like a man. And because he knows he still doesn't have the courage to confront the Guv over this, will never have it. There's nothing he can do.

 

Ray vows that he won't visit Tyler in hospital again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll admit, writing Ray's PoV was a masive challenge. XD I think it worked well, though!


	3. I Thought The Game Was Won

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie is sure, whatever Sam has said, or done, he did not deserve what the Guv, Gene, gave him in return.

Only once she's at the very doorstep does Annie question whether what she's about to do really is the right thing. But then her finger is on the bell button, and she presses down and hears the ring. She closes her eyes for a moment, collecting herself.

 

When Ray came back to the station, he looked shaken. He told her briefly what had happened. She didn't wait for him to finish his tale, already rushing out of the office.

 

Her first stop was at the hospital, to make sure Sam was alright. Sure enough, they had sedated him again, giving the reason of “risk of unintentional self-harm”. He didn't wake up during the hour Annie spent sitting by his bed, feeling like crying and screaming and throwing up and holding him forever and ever.

 

Annie is sure, whatever Sam has said, or done, he did not deserve what the Guv, Gene, gave him in return.

 

And now the Guv is hiding away. Has to be. Nelson has confirmed to her that, no, he hasn't seen the Guv since the incident, not once. Gene's car is sitting in the driveway of his house, so he hasn't left the city either.

 

Annie realizes that it has been a minute since she rang the bell, and no-one has come to answer the door.

 

She rings again, more insistently this time.

 

The sight of Sam, in that hospital bed... she couldn't stand it. Sure, it's happened before, because Sam can be a complete idiot and get himself into trouble without even thinking about it once, but this, this is different. Someone from his own team put him there, someone Sam trusted.

 

It isn't easy for Annie to think about this; to some extent, she understands the Guv's suspicions. At first glance, and at second as well, the case had seemed to be so clear-cut, so obvious... It had looked like there was no room for doubt that Sam indeed had accepted a backhander, and turned a blind eye to a vicious murder. Annie is ashamed to say that at one point, during one brief, terrible moment, she had given up on Sam.

 

But then, after just a bit of proper prodding, the case had fallen apart, just like that – just like Sam had said it would. It had all been staged. Annie had been tasked with dealing with the paperwork for a different case at the time of the discovery, so Ray had been the one rushing to Lost and Found...

 

Still no answer. Annie rings once more, several short rings and three long ones. She knows the Guv must be home.

 

She'll never forget the sight of Sam, on that stretcher. Covered in blood, struggling to breathe. For one moment, before she saw his chest rise with a shudder, she even thought he was dead. That huge gash to the side of his head. The blanket covering him already sodden with blood.

 

She also won't forget how the Guv had walked past the office, after Ray's shout. The department already jumping up from their desks in confusion, someone other than Chris (who had been too startled by Ray's yelled instruction to react) phoning for an ambulance without even knowing what exactly had happened, but yelling at them to come here quick as they can anyway. Through the confusion, the Guv had stalked out of Lost and Found, past the office – his steps determined, and still he looked like he was sleepwalking. A hush had fallen, all of them looking after their DCI, as he disappeared into the elevator.

 

Leaving bloody shoe prints in his wake.

 

And still, no movement in the house. _Enough is enough._

 

Annie bangs her fist against the door.

 

“Guv! It's WDC Cartwright!”

 

Waits for several seconds, then hits the door harder.

 

“I know you're home! Open the door, please!” One moment to catch her breath. “Guv!!”

 

She's starting to think she was wrong to come here after all.

 

Until her hand travels downwards of its own volition, to the handle, pushing it down, and Annie discovers the door isn't even locked.

 

Huh.

 

Slowly, not quite believing it, Annie opens the door, peering inside. The hallway is dark, empty. No sound is to be heard. However, there is a... smell. Just a faint whiff, a certain stale quality to the air, like it hasn't been stirred in a while. Annie's heart is starting to beat hard as she steps into the house, straining her ears for any indication of there being someone else apart from her.

 

“.... Guv?” she calls out, hating how insecure her voice sounds.

 

There is no reply. However, Annie has been in the force for a while now, and she has been part of the Guv's team for long enough to have learned to listen to her gut feeling. And her gut is telling her to search the house thoroughly. _Don't leave without having had a look around_. So Annie battles down her anxiety, closes the door behind her, and switches on the light.

 

It reveals that the house can't be abandoned, at least not for long. The Guv's coat is lying on the floor in a crumpled heap, for one. There is no dust, or at least not as much as there could be. Scraping together all her courage, Annie glances first into the living room, then into the kitchen. The former is empty except for a bottle of single malt and a tumbler on a small table – both drained to the last drop. The kitchen contains little more, a couple of bottles on the floor. So, upstairs it is.

 

Step by step, Annie climbs up, not quite knowing why she's trying to be as silent as she can.

 

The first thing she sees as soon as she's up high enough, is another empty bottle. Beer, this time. Another step, and she spots another bottle. Speeding up slightly, Annie finally reaches the landing.

 

The hallway is practically littered with bottles – beer and whisky, mostly. And--

 

Legs, sticking out from a doorway that must lead to the bathroom.

 

Annie rushes forward, because those are the Guv's loafers –- _oh God, the blood is still on them_ –- that's _him_ lying there as though he's dead.

 

“Guv?!” Annie is on her knees next to his prone form within a heartbeat, trying to turn him on his back. There's no vomit on the floor, so at least he can't have passed out from that and choked on it... But Christ, he's heavy!

 

“Guv, can you hear me?! Guv!” Finally, she's managed to turn him over, and she reaches out to search for a pulse-- there it is. Thank God. And he's breathing too, a cloud of alcoholic stench wafting around him every time his chest falls, which thankfully happens at regular intervals. There's no blood, no cuts, nothing to indicate he injured himself. Annie sits back, exhaling audibly. Jesus Christ... He must be sleeping off the booze...

 

Annie's gaze roams, settling on the trail of bottles in the hallway. Her initial relief starts to fade away as she puts the pieces together. He's been here, all that time, since the incident. Doing nothing but...

 

Annie doesn't allow herself yet to think about what exactly made her superior drink himself senseless for two days. She leans over the Guv, hesitating for the briefest of moments, before following the growing anger inside her and giving him a slap.

 

“Guv! Guv, wake up!”

 

And another slap, to the other side of his face. And then another one, harder, for good measure.

 

It takes another well-placed slap to rouse the Guv from his alcohol-induced slumber, and when he finally twitches and opens his eyes, his confusion and disorientation are evident.

 

“Guv.” Yet one more slap, though this one is more gentle. “Can you 'ear me?”

 

The Guv grunts non-committally, his gaze still unfocused. Impatience flares up within Annie again, and she gives him a small shake. “Guv! Stay with me now, y'can't just go back to sleep! Oi!”

 

Another grunt, longer, and a lot more protesting in nature. However, it seems Annie is having an effect on him; he squeezes his eyes shut, covering them additionally with his hands.

 

“........ time's it.......”

 

“Four o'clock in the afternoon.” Annie realizes she's snapping, but strangely, it doesn't bother her one bit. He gave her a bloody scare there, he deserves some snapping, for this and everything else...!

 

There is another rumble, a groan, and Annie realizes she whole-heartedly wishes for the Guv to have the headache of his life. That's the least he deserves, really. Her frustration bubbling over, she adds with snide in her voice, “That's the afternoon two days after what happened with DI Tyler, by the way, _Guv_.”

 

The fact that this draws no immediate response from her boss angers Annie even more. And she hates the fact that she is rightfully angry. This isn't how it should be... The Guv should be reliable, looking out for his team. He isn't supposed to put his men in a coma, and then refuse to deal with the consequences and drown whatever he has been drowning in alcohol.

 

There still is no visible reaction to her words, and so Annie gets up to her feet, briskly brushing dust off her knees. “Are you going to stay down there, _sir_?” She's not quite sure where her courage is coming from – it can't be solely her anger, can it? - but now that she's here, she'll make full use of it, because she is so sick of this. 

 

Finally, Gene removes one hand from his eyes, blinking up at her. She isn't quite sure what she sees there... even being drunk, or hungover, or both at the same time maybe, the Guv's expression remains hard to read. Or maybe it's _because_ he's sloshed out of his mind that it's so hard to tell what he's thinking. 

 

Maybe he isn't thinking anything at all.

 

The silence between them stretches, becoming uncomfortable. Annie thinks that maybe, she should just turn around and leave. Leave the Guv alone with his bottles. But then again... she can't just let this rest, she needs to get all those things off her chest...

 

“Don't you want to know how DI Tyler is doing?”

 

Gene merely stares at her. Blinks once, slowly.

 

“ 'e's alive. But it was a close call. Really close.” Annie has to fight hard to retain control over her voice. “ 'e was in a coma, woke up just a couple of hours ago. Do you want to know what the doctors told me? About his injuries?” She pauses for a moment, before shaking her head. “I suppose you don't, but you know what, _Guv_? I don't care! Because you need to know, because it was _you_ who did this to him!”

 

She thinks there is a change in Gene's expression, but at this point, Annie is beyond caring.

 

“First of all, fractured skull – that alone could've cost 'is life, and 'e's damn lucky it didn't. Next, a couple of broken and cracked ribs, but that's par for the course, right? Shattered bones in his right 'and, you outdid yourself there if I may say so. Severe bruising all over his upper body, some internal bleeding. Oh, and severe bruising on his legs, 'e'll 'ave to use crutches for a while. Or, well, a cane, because obviously 'e can't use 'is right 'and!”

 

Only when she stops to take a breath does Annie realize how her own voice is ringing painfully in her ears, and she hesitates for a moment, surprised by her outburst. And she evidently isn't the only one who's surprised; Gene is gaping at her by now, having sat up slowly during her speech, eyes wide. Annie can't tell whether that's because of what she just told him, or because of _how_ she did it, or because she did it at all. She stares back at him, not quite yet ready to let it go.

 

“But, 'e's alive. 'e'll recover, physically at least. Mentally, who's to say?”

 

And still, Gene says nothing, nothing whatsoever. Doesn't even try to interject. Annie can feel tears of frustration gather in her eyes, tries to hold them back. “But you know what? All of this would be at least a bit easier to bear for all of us if you at least went and took some bloody responsibility!” There, it's out now. “We've been worried sick! Sam in a coma, you gone, where does that leave us? What are we supposed to do? And 'ere you are, in yer own 'ouse, drowning yerself in booze.” The tears are out too. “Because where does it leave the rest of us when first we have to doubt our own DI, and then we can't even respect our Guv any more? Tell me, Gene, where does it leave _us_?!” 

 

After that last outburst, silence falls between them. Annie is breathing hard. Gene is silent, staring up at her with those unsettling green eyes of his. She still can't tell what he's thinking, but when she looks closely she thinks that his face has gone pale.

 

_Say something, please_.

 

Annie can't bear the silence. Why isn't he coming back at her with this rage of his? Anything would feel better, reassure her than that... apathy. Her hands shake as she curls them into fists. Only now does she realize that Gene is also still wearing his clothes from two days ago. There are bloodstains on his trousers, and the front of his shirt as well. 

 

Suddenly, Annie feels sick.

 

“Right. Stay 'ere. You can stay 'ere forever, for all I care. If you don't come into work tomorrow, I'm... no, _we_ are reporting you to the Super.” Now her voice is shaking too, shaking with hurt and anger and sadness. 

 

Without a further word, Annie turns on her heels and walks away. Down the stairs. Down the hallway. Out of the house. Gene doesn't even attempt to follow her.

 

~*~

 

Half an hour later, she is sitting by Sam's bed. He hasn't woken up again so far, the nurse told her. Annie inches closer to the bed, close enough to reach out and put a hand on Sam's arm. He probably needs the contact. Annie needs the contact too, she'll admit. Needs to see his chest rise and fall. He looks properly asleep now, which for some reason has a very calming effect on Annie. She gives his arm a little squeeze.

 

“You'll be alright. D'you hear me, Sam? You'll be fine...”

 

_We all will... hopefully._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from the lyrics of "Decision/Indecision" by Atomic Rooster.


	4. Facts Can Be Deceiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam squeezes his eyes shut. He knows there is something he needs to think about, but he refuses to do so for now.

It doesn't take longer than a few hours before Sam wakes up again. Too soon, for his liking.

 

This time, he is alone.

 

No shadows.

 

No one threatening him.

 

Sam lies awake for a couple of hours, staring up at the ceiling. His mind is hazy, pictures and memories swirling lazily. Whenever he tries to grasp them, his head starts to hurt, and so he settles for just watching them go by, watching the ceiling, watching nothing.

 

Sometimes, he thinks he sees a big, hulking shape out of the corner of his eyes, but every time he looks, there's nothing. Whenever that happens, it takes his heart several minutes to settle back into a normal pace. Sam isn't quite sure what's unsettling him so, but thoughts of this as well make his head hurt, and so he abandons them.

 

“ _There's evidence against you.”_

 

Someone opens the door. Sam closes his eyes. He doesn't open them as the nurse checks on him, and leaves to inform the doctor that he has regained consciousness.

 

He sleeps through the thorough check-up. He sleeps through Annie's and Chris's evening visit.

 

~*~

 

The next time Sam wakes up, he keeps his eyes closed for a while longer. His head isn't pounding, but for some reason he knows that, should he move it, he will hurt. He's been hurting so much already, it's enough to last him for several months, thank you very much. However, his body doesn't seem to agree with that; the more aware Sam becomes of his surroundings, the more he also becomes aware of the pain. It seems to be everywhere. Why has he not felt that before? Sam rummages in his memories for a moment – carefully, so as not to upset his head – and concludes that it must be because of painkillers. He's in hospital, he knows as much now. As to how he got there... He doesn't want to think about that.

 

Finally, Sam decides to open his eyes. The room is darker than before; the only light is coming from the hallway, and shining in through the window. A street lamp, most likely. So it must be evening, or night. What year is it?

 

“ _I asked you a bloody question!”_

 

Sam squeezes his eyes shut. He knows there is something he needs to think about, but he refuses to do so for now. _Let me rest for just a little longer, please. Let me rest, just this once. Please._

 

Sam's head is pounding again now. His chest is stinging with every breath he takes. His right arm is pulsing. His entire abdomen seems to be awash with pain. Sam wants painkillers. Why have they not given him painkillers? He doesn't want to feel. He just wants to sleep. Sleep. The Test Card Girl had wanted him to sleep, too. Maybe she was right, back then. Sleep, Sam, sleep. Don't think. No pain. Just sleep.

 

Sleep.

 

~*~

 

This time, Sam wakes up to the sensation of someone touching his hand. He twitches ever so slightly – not knowing where he is, how he got there, what happened – but then he remembers, he's in hospital, and that touch is so light, fingers soft, warm... It should be safe to open his eyes... just a bit...

 

“Sam?”

 

“ _Sam. DI Tyler. Did you, or did you not accept money from a known criminal individual._ ”

 

Sam's eyes open faster than he originally intended them to, startled by the voice, both voices. But the real one is female. Soft. _Annie_.

 

Unlike last time, when all he saw was a big shape, he's able to focus fairly quickly, and as his gaze wanders to the side slowly, he is met with bright blue eyes, framed by curly brown hair. It's Annie indeed, looking both anxious and hopeful.

 

“Sam! Can you hear me?”

 

Of course he can. Stupid question. Sam wants to nod, but then thinks better of it. It wouldn't do to upset his head. So instead, he tries to say “yes”, but that doesn't quite work out. His throat is dry from disuse, and the small word turns into a cough.

 

“Hang on, I'll get you some water...”

 

Sam would rather have painkillers – the cough has set off something in his chest, and it bloody hurts with every breath he tries to take, and hurts even more with every cough that follows. Christ, nodding would have been easier...

 

There is a bit of rummaging, and then there's something poking his lips, something that Sam identifies as a straw after a moment. The promise of liquid, something to soothe his burning throat and chest... Reflex overpowering everything else, Sam takes a few gulps, and it helps indeed. Christ, how it helps... he drinks greedily, until Annie takes the cup away.

 

“Not too much at once, Sam, it's not good for you...”

 

He thinks he can hear her voice waver, but for now Sam is too busy swallowing and feeling how his body calms down, settles back. One last stray cough, and then it's over, and Sam opens his eyes again. Annie is leaning over him again, worry written all over her face.

 

“Alright?” she asks, quietly. Sam wants to snort. Does he _look_ alright?

 

Still, to humour Annie, he nods, very, very carefully. The nervous smile he receives in reply should make him feel a little better, but it doesn't. It just... doesn't. Does nothing at all to him. And that's odd, that's very odd.

 

Before Sam can think about it further, Annie speaks again. “Do you need anything else? Should I call a nurse...?”

 

Sam decides to test his luck once more and opens his mouth to say, “...no.” His own voice startles him. It's raspy, weak. In fact, it sounds nothing like him at all. Annie seems to think the same, seeing as her eyebrows twitch into a frown for a moment, before she adopts a comforting smile, her fingers on Sam's hand squeezing gently.

 

“Alright then.” She sits down again in the chair standing next to his bed. Sam follows her movements with his eyes, but when he tries to turn his head, he quickly decides that that wouldn't be a good idea. And so, he focuses back on the ceiling instead.

 

“I'm so glad you're awake. I mean, you...” Again. Sam is sure Annie's voice is unstable, like she's fighting to suppress something. But what? “... they said you would make a good recovery, most like. At least, if you stay in bed like a good boy.” Clearly that was meant to be a joke, but Sam doesn't feel like laughing. He keeps his gaze trained on that one spot on the ceiling above him. Silence falls. He knows Annie is watching him. Waiting for something?

 

She inhales, and Sam's eyes flit to the side for a moment.

 

“Sam... did... I mean, did you know? Chris came to visit you. And Ray!”

 

Sam blinks. No, he didn't know. Although, there's something... Apart from Annie, there _was_ someone else, but...

 

“Chris and.... _Ray_?”

 

Annie nods, encouraged by his response. “Just yesterday. And the day before that as well.”

 

Sam blinks again, processing this. Yesterday... He doesn't even know when 'yesterday' was. How much time has passed? How much, since...?

 

“ _It's a simple enough question, DI Tyler.”_

 

Sam's breath hitches in his chest. The headache is suddenly back with a vengeance. Sam screws his eyes shut against it, but that doesn't help much.

 

“Sam?”

 

He knows that Annie is standing next to him now, probably alarmed, but _Christ his head hurts--_

 

“Sam, what's wrong?! I'll call the doctor--”

 

No, he doesn't need it, he just needs to come back to the present (wherever that is), it's fine--

 

“ _The truth, Tyler!”_

 

There is a sound, a terrified, choking sound, like a sob, and it takes Sam a moment to realize that it came from him.

 

When the hand touches his cheek, he flinches, expecting more than the soft touch, expecting an impact, and _oh my God my HEAD--_

 

“Sam, Sam....! Listen to me, you're _fine_. You're in 'ospital, and you're _safe_. Do you hear me? Sam!”

 

The voice is soft too, different from the other voice – rough, yelling, _breaking_ \- , and Sam tries to remember, needs to remember... He isn't... This isn't... This is.... This is _Annie_.

 

When Sam dares to open his eyes again, hers are red.

 

“Oh, Sam...”

 

And there it is, the thing he thought Annie was hiding. Not worry, nor guilt. Not even pity.

 

It was – fairly simply – sadness.

 

~*~

 

Annie stays by his side for another hour. Sam knows she wants to ask him something, and he knows what exactly that “something” is. But she doesn't, and so he doesn't mention it either. Doesn't even think about it. He wants to be safe for now, and thinking back is anything but safe. And so, Sam stays in the present. In 1973. 

 

They are silent, most of the time. Annie simply holds his hand. He didn't ask for it, and he doesn't feel much. However, it _does_ keep him anchored in the present, and Sam is glad for that.

 

After Annie leaves, promising to come back soon, Sam keeps his eyes closed. He wants to fall asleep again. Sleeping is much easier than staying awake. He hasn't had any dreams so far. And he doesn't hurt while he sleeps. _Please, let me sleep again._

 

Sam keeps his eyes closed, but sleep doesn't come. He is concentrating so hard on falling asleep that he doesn't even notice how his thoughts drift away, out of his room in the hospital.

 

Back to the other room.

 

~*~

 

_Sam couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that Gene was seriously thinking... No. It made him speechless. Did Gene really believe – did he really think Sam capable of working together with the likes of Anthony Miller?_

 

_Alright, granted, it must have looked suspicious. All Miller had given him when they ran into each other, was a piece of paper, an article from a newspaper. Sam had put it away, into the pocket of his jacket, preoccupied with the gibberish the man had been talking. That he was sorry, that he'd never meant to do anything, that he would help them... That was the point where Sam thought that maybe, on that article, Miller had put down some sort of... code, with information. A secret message._

 

_Sitting in Lost and Found, waiting for Gene to come in and commence the interview, Sam wanted to slap himself for being so naïve. Of course it was a trap. It was a trap that, when Miller left, Sam thought he was acting so strangely that it would be necessary to track him – but he didn't have the time, he was out on a different investigation, and the Guv would have his hide if he dawdled any further... So when he'd spotted PC Grant, he'd tasked him with following Miller for a while, just to make sure. As Sam had walked away from the scene, someone had bumped into him, but he had been too preoccupied to pay the man much attention. Later, he was convinced that that was how the money had ended up inside his pocket. Instead of the newspaper article, of course._

 

_PC Grant had reported back an hour later, saying that he had lost Miller nearly immediately. After another hour, report of a shooting had come in. And then, everything had gone tits-up._

 

_The next thing he knew, Sam was standing in one of the cells, as a potential suspect for complicity in murder and corruption. When the door had closed behind him and he had heard the steps retreat, he had allowed himself to laugh. Just a chuckle at first, which then had turned into a full-fledged laughing fit. The absurdity of it all had simply caught up with him._

 

_He wanted Gene to say it. He wanted him to admit that it was all a joke, a terrible one, but a joke nonetheless. That was why he remained silent. He wanted to give Gene the chance to say it out loud. Sam feared that if he talked himself, and tried to convince Gene, things would escalate._

 

_Well, they did anyway, didn't they. Well done Sam, good job. He yelled at Gene, yelled his hurt pride and his immense sense of utter betrayal out there and at his Guv, and then, and then..._

 

_Pain._

 

~*~

 

Sam returns to the hospital room with a gasp. The sun is shining in through the window. He's alone.

 

And yet, Sam's heart is beating fast, too fast. His breathing is irregular. Unlike before, he is now unable to keep his thoughts rooted in the present. Images keep flashing before his eyes, making the room around him fizz like the picture on a faulty TV, about to lose reception.

 

_Why didn't I say anything..._

 

Eyes flashing--

 

_I should have told him from the start..._

 

Punching, kicking him--

 

_Why...?!_

 

Shouting, shouting, shouting, ears are ringing, no air in his lungs--

 

_Stop... I didn't want this--!_

 

That terrible shadow, relentlessly laying into Sam, it suddenly has a proper shape again.

 

_Gene, no--!!_

 

Sam can't ignore it any more. A groan escapes his lips as his back arches, head pounding mercilessly, awakening every other injury in his body as well.

 

“No, please, no, don't, no...”

 

Finally, the words start streaming out, but it's too late now, isn't it, everything's already happened, everything already has gone utterly wrong. Sam doesn't notice how the door opens and Annie rushes to his side after a moment of shock, how her hands try to gently force him back down, how she shouts for a nurse. He's been pulled back into Lost and Found, he feels the kicks again, he sees Gene's eyes again, the fury in them, the disgust, the despair, the _hurt_. It's too much, that moment, that moment where he realises that Gene has snapped, that Sam has gone too far, that he went about it the wrong way. That moment when he wishes with all his being that he could rewind time, erase just the last couple of hours.

 

That moment when his head hits the ground and he sees blood-red flashes instead of stars. When Gene loses control. When the pain really and truly starts.

 

A scream uncurls in his chest, works its way up his throat, escapes, fills the room. Somewhere at the corners of his reeling mind, he notices the people around him, something holding him down, vice-like grips around his wrists. But he needs to move, he needs to get away. Sam struggles, it hurts, he struggles more, it hurts more.

 

Then, his mind crashes. Goes under in a sea of black. Disappears.

 

~*~

 

Sam regains consciousness again late in the evening.

 

He thinks he can smell cigarette smoke.

 

He realises he is not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from "Decision/Indecision" by Atomic Rooster


	5. I'm Going To Find A Way To Become What I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knows exactly what he's going to say, but that doesn't make it any easier.

It's not like it was entirely due to Cartwright that Gene had thrown out the rest of his beer stash. It's not like it's only due to her that he is now, early in the morning, getting ready – showering, shaving - to go to work. He doesn't think he can stomach breakfast just yet.

 

It must at least partially be due to the pounding headache he's suffering. There's no way he could sleep for long like that. And it feels like the walls of his house are falling down on his head. He needs to get out.

 

Although, credit where credit's due. Gene has to admit that Cartwright gave him a proper verbal slap. He doesn't really know what to think about it, to be honest. Right after she had stomped out of the house, he had been assaulted by a terrible sense of shame, drowning out everything else. That sense of shame which he had been trying to suppress for two days. Not that he had succeeded entirely, but he had told himself if he just kept drinking, just one more bottle, just one more tumbler, it would eventually work, make him forget...

 

Well, of course it didn't. He should have known, really. And deep down, he knows he can't and - more importantly - he _shouldn't_ forget. The fact that he utterly lost control. That he hurt someone.

 

...No.

 

That he hurt Sam.

 

Gene ties the knot of his tie a bit tighter than strictly necessary.

 

His head starts to pound even harder when he thinks about it, his throat constricting slightly. He wants to chalk that down to the hangover.

 

As Gene leaves the house, he briefly glances at the rubbish bag sagged down next to the door. He'll deal with that later. For now, he needs to get to the office, clear up a few things. He can get rid of the bloodied clothes when he returns. 

 

~*~

 

As expected, the office is deserted when Gene arrives. He has managed to avoid being seen when he entered the building, and now he's standing in the middle of the room, observing the desks.

 

Tyler's desk is annoyingly tidy, as usual. Like he's been here this entire time, keeping it clean. The sight seems wrong to Gene, utterly wrong. He knows Tyler can't have been here. It was probably Cartwright who kept looking out for it.

 

Gene turns and walks into his own office. Glances at the mess that is his own desk. No new files there, it's exactly the same way as it was before the interrogation. Gene purses his lips. Surely there have been new cases by now...

 

… but that doesn't really matter now. Without wasting another thought on it, Gene stalks over to his chair and sits down in it, fixing the door with his stare. For now, he shall wait. He picks up the top-most file on his desk, the label reading “Anthony Miller”. He's read the file several times now, but when he flips it open, he sees that several new sheets have been added. Gene reads them.

 

Over and over.

 

~*~

 

One by one, the officers arrive at the station. As soon as he sees that his entire team has assembled outside, Gene pushes open the door and slowly steps out of his office. Heads turn; he sees that most of them flinch, eyes widening. They didn't think he'd be there, from the looks of it. Cartwright is the only one who keeps a studiously blank expression, not quite raising her head to look at him.

 

It's surreal, this. Gene is standing in front of his men, his team, stance confident as usual, but... It feels like he isn't really there at all. He knows exactly what he's going to say, but that doesn't make it any easier. Not because he doesn't want to do what needs to be done, but because saying it out loud means admitting it once and for all. No going back.

 

… As if there ever was. Quit whining, Hunt. You're a man. The Manc Lion.

 

“... right you lot. You all know what 'appened, and there is nothing I can say that will make it something different.” Gene pauses, letting his gaze roam for a moment. “I'm stepping back from my post for a while. Things need to be sorted, and they better be sorted by someone who isn't part of this sodding mess.”

 

Another pause. Gene doesn't know what to say, but he can't just end it here...

 

“... keep up the good work.”

 

As soon as he finishes, Gene realises he can't stay here one moment longer. He can't allow them to ask questions, because questions require answers, and he can't give answers which he doesn't _have_. And so, he turns around, walking out of the office with decisive steps, leaving silence in his wake. No one comes after him to hold him back, ask him to stay. He didn't think it would happen anyway.

 

It hurts all the same.

 

~*~

 

After dropping a written declaration on the Super's desk, Gene is out of the station faster than he's ever been. He doesn't permit himself to think about what he's going to do next, because if he did, he might start talking himself out of it. So Gene drives, drives fast, carelessly, until suddenly, he's parked in front of the hospital, staring up at the grey building.

 

He doesn't know what to expect, really. He doesn't know what to say when he sees Tyler. He doesn't know what to say when Tyler sees _him_.

 

To stop the thoughts from forming, taking over his head, Gene steps out of his car and closes the door with a smash, striding to the entrance and making his way to the reception. This needs to be done.

 

“ 'm looking for a Sam Tyler.”

 

The nurse at the desk looks up and studies him with a slight frown.

  
“And 'oo are you, sir?”

 

Now it's Gene who's frowning. “Since when do you do ID controls at a ruddy 'ospital? I'm a colleague.” Although, as soon as he says it, it dawns on him... but would they really...? Surely not?

 

The nurse's tone is more than stiff now. “Special orders. We can't let just anyone see 'im. Lad's been traumatised badly.”

 

Christ. They really did it.

 

“Listen, luv, I'm 'is DCI, an' I know you're under orders not to let me through, most like. But this is important, you hear me? There's something I need to tell 'im. Y'can 'ave someone keep watch outside if you like, but just let me up to see 'im.”

 

He realises that he's leaning in now, both hands propped on the desk. Gene straightens back up to his full height. The nurse is looking at him, and he knows it'll be hard to win her over, if at all. He's anything but keen on anyone listening in on their conversation, but that's something the nurse doesn't need to know. He just needs one moment...

 

“I'll... 'ave to talk to my superior,” the woman says at last. Gene can hear the insecurity in her voice, much as she tries to hide it. She looks at him for a second longer – a look that says “And don't you dare move!” - before turning on her heels and walking through a door behind her.

 

Of course, Gene moves. He leans in and starts flipping through the book on the counter quickly, sifting through the names.

 

There. Sam Tyler, Room 126.

 

~*~

 

By the time the nurse returns to the reception desk, Gene is long gone. The people waiting in the lounge tell her that the tall man in the camel hair coat left through the front entrance, got into his car and drove off. To make sure, a pair of male nurses check on Sam – but he's fast asleep, and the room is completely empty. The tall man really simply left. The nurse calls the police station, to report the incident. 20 minutes later, an officer shows up, conducting a thorough search of the hospital. They don't find DCI Gene Hunt. False alarm, everyone go home.

 

Or so it plays out in Gene's head, at the end of the day, as he waits by a back entrance, cigarette in mouth, having parked the Cortina just a bit off. Having an escort is all nice and well, but he prefers to have this moment with Tyler in private. He thinks he knows why the staff have been told not to let him see his DI, and in a way, he completely understands the decision.

 

But at the same time, to think that now, his team think of him as so utterly unpredictable, that really... that really does hurt. They don't know what happened back there, in Lost and Found. They don't know how Sam acted. They don't know what he said, and didn't say.

 

They don't know how desperate Gene felt that day.

 

Gene takes a drag from the fag between his fingers, then lets it fall to the ground. It's completely dark now. No one will notice if he slips inside. Time to go.

 

~*~

 

It's easy to find Sam's room without being spotted. Standing in front of the door, staring at the wood, Gene notes that his mind has gone blank. It only lasts for a moment, but it feels like he's being sucked down into a black hole.

 

He blinks – the feeling is gone. Good. Without further ado, Gene pushes down the handle and opens the door, quietly.

 

He doesn't see Sam immediately – first he turns, to close the door behind him. Then, finally, he faces the bed. The bed with his broken deputy in it.

 

'Broken' really is the only word that comes to mind as Gene looks at Sam. He seems to be nothing but bandages and swatches of pale skin; he's breathing on his own, without the help of a respirator, and thank God for that. However, the sight of the IV tube and various other machines hooked up to him makes Gene feel slightly sick all the same.

 

It's not like he hasn't seen Sam all beaten up before. The daft sod is daft enough to get himself into trouble all the time, and by now there are nurses he knows by name already. He's spent a fair share of his time in this hospital – and while it's annoying, it's undeniably part of the job. Being a copper isn't easy.

 

But this... this isn't the same.

 

It's far worse.

 

Gene gingerly takes a step forward. As he does, he notices the black straps that are keeping Sam's wrists and arms pinned in place. Gene stops abruptly, his eyes widening slightly.

 

_What...?_

 

What is the meaning of this? Sam can't move properly, strapped down like that. That's utterly ridiculous.

 

Without even thinking about what he is doing, Gene reaches for his pack and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it, his eyes never leaving Sam's prone figure on the bed. Of course he's seen straps like this before; once on Stu, even, when he'd been so delirious from drugs that he'd attempted some very stupid things. However... Sam wouldn't do something like that.

 

Would he?

 

Gene takes a drag, staring.

 

There's no need to strap Sam down. Sam is strong, surely, even in this state; Sam wouldn't attempt silly things.

 

Silly things like topping himself.

 

He wouldn't.

 

There's no reason.

 

That's not the Sam he knows.

 

Gene flinches, blinks. Then drops the cigarette to the ground, grinding out the tip with his heel. This train of thought won't get him anywhere, he needs to stop it right this instant. Concentrate, Hunt, concentrate. _Remember what you came here for._

 

However, with Sam sleeping (or unconscious?), he'll have to wait. There is a chair next to the bed, but Gene hesitates to walk over there to retrieve it. He doesn't want to distress Sam by getting too close. He might notice, in his sleep. If he doesn't wake up soon, Gene decides, he'll leave and try again tomorrow morning.

 

He hasn't even finished the thought when Tyler stirs.

 

Gene's heart stutters slightly, and he straightens up unconsciously, swallowing. For a second, he thinks he only imagined it, but then Sam's hand twitches, and his head moves minutely. Right, this is it, then.

 

His eyes not leaving Sam's face for one second, Gene witnesses the exact moment when his deputy gains awareness of his surroundings. When he realises he isn't alone in the room. It's the moment his muscles tense, the fingers of his good hand slowly curling to grab the sheet beneath them. It's probably an instinctive reaction; Gene doesn't want to think that Sam knows it's _him_ , and that that is what's causing him to go rigid like that.

 

Gene remains where he is, waiting silently, patiently. Rushing now, making a sound, it wouldn't help him here. Sam takes an audible breath – not very deep, as if he's restricted somehow, and Gene remembers that Annie told him something about cracked ribs. The room isn't entirely dark, so it's fairly easy to see how Sam's eyelids twitch, his face contorting slightly... And then he opens his eyes. Well, one eye. The other is entirely cover up by bandages.

 

It's so unspectacular that Gene thinks for a moment he's missed something, that the big moment that should have been there somehow passed him without him even noticing. Tyler's looks up at the ceiling for a moment, before letting his gaze wander to the side and settle on Gene, almost lazily. Gene stares right back, fag between his lips, keeping his expression blank. It's easier than it should be. He keeps it blank even when realisation dawns on Tyler; as his one eye widens minutely; as Gene sees his Adam's Apple bob when Tyler swallows nervously; as his good hand claws into the sheets more tightly.

 

The silence in the room is becoming deafening. There's a roaring in Gene's head, not unlike what happens right before the Haze, but very different at the same time. He hopes that his expression is still blank, because if it reflects what he is feeling at that moment... He can't even find words for it in his mind. It's just this roaring.

 

Wordless horror.

 

It's almost funny that, judging from Sam's expression, it's very much the same for him.

 

Gene doesn't know how much time has passed by now; seconds, or minutes, or hours, during which they just stare at each other. The thought crosses Gene's mind that Sam is starting to look like a cornered rabbit.

 

Finally, he can't bear the silence any longer. He lifts his hand to his mouth to remove the cigarette – and Sam flinches, so violently that he hisses in pain, and surprise too as the straps hold against the movement.

 

_Jesus Christ..._

 

This is as painful to watch as it must feel for Sam. Slowly, ever so slowly, Gene lowers his hand, so as not to upset his deputy any further. But it's not much use, now that he's realised that he's restrained. Gene can see how his chest starts to rise and fall faster, too fast. He's panicking.

 

For a moment, Gene isn't sure if he'll be able to speak. His chest and throat feel so tight, it's like no sound will get over his lips... But it works.

 

“Sam.”

 

Sam stares at him, and it's so obvious how hard he is trying to fight the panic, the urge to get up and run, even though it's physically impossible. Gene can see how his good arm is straining against the straps.

 

Gene wants to say “I'm not going to hurt you”, but it doesn't work. What comes out instead is, “I'm not comin' any closer than this.”

 

Sam gives no answer, eyes fixed on his face, only occasionally flitting down to Gene's hands. He doesn't look convinced, but Gene supposes that can't be helped at the moment. He'll just have to stay true to his word and not move.

 

“So.” Gene glances at the straps. “Those things.” He nods at them. “What 'appened?”

 

Finally, Sam averts his eyes. Still remains silent, though. It makes Gene's guts knot up most uncomfortably. The seconds tick by, and his suspicions, his fear is starting to solidify, give a proper name to what he thinks happened, when suddenly –

 

“... I don't know.”

 

For a moment, Gene thinks he merely imagined having heard the words, but then Sam coughs, clearing his throat a little.

 

“You don't know?” Gene echoes, somewhat incredulously. “Went sleepwalking, or wha'?”

 

“I don't know.” Sam shoots back, more aggressively this time. “Don't remember, don't...” He breaks off, screwing his eyes shut suddenly, turning his head away. Gene shuts his mouth. Christ. He came here to talk, to get things off his chest, and not to... not to cause even more pain...

 

Gene looks down, chancing a glance after a few seconds to see that Sam is looking at him again, though he seems more tired now. Right, he needs to get this done quickly... He clears his throat, awkwardly, fixing his gaze on the duvet instead of Sam himself.

 

“Right. Anyway.” Oh great, good start. And what now? Gene's mind has gone blank. Talking to his team that morning was a breeze in comparison to this... Gene clears his throat again, triggering a little cough. And all the while, Sam is watching him, he knows. Watching for a sign of Gene losing control again.

 

_I'm sorry._

 

Why is it so hard to say? It's just two words. Well, two and a half. Maybe it's because these few words simply aren't enough to express what he really feels. They would feel flat, utterly insufficient. For a moment, Gene's mind starts to reel with the overwhelming sensation of helplessness.

 

“... I, erm...” Gene doesn't even recognize his own voice now. It's subdued, almost faint. “... I.... this...” He's not the Guv, not now, not any more. Not for Sam.

 

And that's the whole thing, really. Sam isn't his deputy any more. Can't be. Not after what happened.

 

Gene fully realises this only now. That's the core of the problem. And that is what he needs to tell Sam.

 

He straightens up, squaring his shoulders slightly. His gaze slides up to meet Sam's eyes, and he notices how his muscles tense up a bit further.

 

“... I'm turning meself in. I'll tell the Super what 'appened. After that, it's two options. One, I'm suspended from work, indefinitely – or transferred, I suppose - an' you stay 'ere. Become acting DCI, probably. Two...” Here, Gene has to pause for a moment, to gather strength. “... Two, if I stay, you are transferred. You get to choose a new station.”

 

After a beat, Gene feels compelled to add, “Can go back to Hyde, if y'like.” And as soon as he does, he wishes he hadn't.

 

However, it's out now. Silence settles, and for a long moment, Gene and Sam merely look at each other. If there was ever a moment when he thought time had stopped, it's now. He can't tell how long the silence stretches. 

 

Finally, Gene feels himself deflate, and his gaze drifts off, downwards. He's incredibly tired now. His hand moves to reach for his pack of cigarettes, takes one out almost automatically and raises it to his mouth –

 

“Don't you dare light that in 'ere.”

 

Gene nearly drops the fag. His gaze darts up to Sam's face. He's unable to read the expression there, and then Sam seems shocked by his own behaviour and turns his head away. As soon as Gene's own shock passes, he puts the cigarette away, unlit.

 

Again, neither of them says a word for a while. Sam isn't looking at Gene any longer, but he still feels like there's something more to be said... It's hanging in the space between them, and behind him as well, preventing Gene from just turning around and walking through the door, leaving Sam to his own devices.

 

So instead, Gene takes a tentative step forward – and stops immediately when Sam's head whips around and he flinches away at the same time. Again, Gene can see him straining against the straps; he thinks he can even hear them creak slightly. It makes him so angry. The nurse herself told Gene that Sam was “traumatised” - why then did they put the restraints on him?! Of course it would make him feel weak and threatened by every little fart, if he can't even move around freely...

 

Remaining frozen in place, Gene watches as Sam calms down somewhat, though his eyes are still wide, his lips one taut line, hand curled into a fist. Finally, he realises that his anger must be showing on his face, and that Sam must be thinking it's because of his, Sam's, reaction.

 

Gene blinks, slowly. By the time he opens his eyes again, his expression is blank again, betraying nothing. Sam relaxes a bit further.

 

“... Sam...” Gene doesn't know what to say. It's all a big mess, and he doesn't know how to get out of it. He said what he came here to say, and it still isn't enough... The two-and-a-half words are standing in front of his eyes again, bouncing all over his mind, and yet he can't release them, even though he means them with all his heart.

 

But saying it out loud would betray the meaning, Gene is sure. 

 

He snorts, looking down. He should just go.

 

And he's already turning to leave without a further word, when he hears Sam's faint voice over the rustling of his camel hair coat.

 

“... I didn't take a bribe.”

 

Once again, Gene freezes in his motion.

 

“I thought you knew.”

 

He finds himself unable to turn around.

 

“Miller set me up.”

 

He finds himself unable to breathe.

 

“When you... when you started asking all those questions, I... I couldn't believe it, really.”

 

_I know Sam, I know._ Of course he knows. He always knew it. He always should have known. _I just wanted you to say it._

 

“I wanted you to say it.”

 

_That you're innocent._

 

“That I was innocent.”

 

_It was too late when you did._

 

“... I'm sorry.” Gene nearly misses this last sentence, it's uttered so quietly.

 

And it sounds so utterly, utterly wrong. He never knew these two-and-a-half words could sound so wrong. It nearly makes him want to retch.

 

Gene turns around, staring at Sam who seems to want to disappear into his sheets. It takes Gene a few seconds to realize that his own mouth is hanging open slightly.

 

“... you're sorry?” he finally says, voice low, almost trembling.

 

Sam doesn't look at him, his visible eye nearly closed. He looks both old and way too young.

 

It's as if a barrier has disintegrated in Gene's mind. Words bubble up, demanding to be spoken out loud. “... you stupid fairy-arsed bastard. _You_ are sorry?! How can you-- how bloody dare you?!” He's talking louder and louder with each word, closing in on Sam, whose eyes widen once more as he looks up. But Gene ignores it.

 

“You were up there on your high Hyde horse, you acted like the most arrogant sod out there, you insulted me... But now it's you who's lyin' 'ere, beaten and broken, and you're sorry. I put you there, and you're sorry! I lost control and beat you within an inch of your life, and _you are bloody sorry!_ ”

 

Gene is standing just an inch away from Sam's bed now, leaning down. He can hear Tyler's fast, hampered breathing, he can see him trembling. It hurts so much.

 

“Do you have any idea... any bloody idea at all... how much I want to undo all of this.” His voice, having grown loud, is breaking now, and he can't do a thing about it. “I want to undo what happened, but it's impossible, innit. That's not how the world works. So I 'ave to live with what I did, what I did to my deputy, live with it till I die. And don't you _dare_ be sorry, because no matter how arrogant and self-important a bastard you are, _nothing's_ ever goin' to justify what I did.”

 

Gene reaches out, Sam opens his mouth in a silent gasp –

 

Gene places his hand on Sam's fist. The touch is so light, he barely feels it. Gene knows his own hand is shaking ever so slightly.

 

“Don't you dare be sorry,” he repeats, quietly, before his voice fails him entirely, emotions overwhelming him. Gene bows his head, teeth clenched, eyes shut. His fingers are moving minutely, slowly curling around Sam's hand. He would squeeze it, but Gene knows he's lost any right he ever might have had to do that. So it remains a light touch. 

 

Neither of them says a word.

 

~*~

 

When Gene finally regains the strength to straighten back up again, the door behind him opens.

 

“I thought I 'eard someone talk-- Jesus Christ!”

 

It's a nurse, no doubt. Gene's time here is up. She's talking to him now, her voice shrill, probably asking him to leave or else. But he doesn't plan on staying anyway. There is nothing more to be said.

 

Gene stalks past the nurse without a word, ignoring how her voice fades away behind him as he walks down the hallway. He walks and walks, down flights of stairs, past bewildered staff, out of the building. To his car. Unlocks the door, opens it, sits down in his seat, closes the door.

 

And remains sitting.

 

_Don't you dare be sorry. Daft sod._

 

“Daft sod,” Gene repeats softly. Leans forward, until his forehead touches the steering wheel.

 

Heaves a sob. Just the one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title, as usual, taken from "Decision/Indecision" by Atomic Rooster. Thank you for reading! <3


	6. I'm Going To Find A Way...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has to fight for his happiness.

The nurse doesn't even listen to Sam as she checks on him to make sure that Gene really didn't harm him, doesn't listen to his pleas to remove the straps. She just nods in what Sam guesses is supposed to be a sympathetic way, tuts a little, but ultimately shakes her head, and leaves once she's satisfied that her patient hasn't been messed with. So Sam is left alone in the twilight of his room, wide awake, mind in a turmoil and oddly blank all at once.

 

During the time it takes for his heartbeat to stop racing – and that's quite some time – Sam thinks he's slowly starting to understand what happened. It's not easy, with his thoughts jumping about wildly, images flashing about in front of his eyes, making him breathe hard. But, as Sam starts to build more solid, stable paths for his thoughts to follow in his head, to make sense of it all, things are starting to slot into place. The sun rises, and Sam is still awake, carefully leading his mind on.

 

He's lived in between worlds for months, pulled this way and that by each of them, the ever on-going tug-of-war nearly driving him mad, before he finally chose which one he wanted to belong to. He'll be damned if he'll let anything take this world away from him. What's happened between him and Gene... However hard it may be, Sam has to work it out, find a resolution, if not a solution. He has to fight for his happiness. Especially since it was (partially at least) Sam himself who took it away from himself in the first place, by acting like an arrogant twat.

 

By the time the doctor comes in for the morning check, Sam has been awake for many hours, and he has come to a decision.

 

~*~

 

It takes Annie _and_ Ray to convince the doctors to remove the straps from Sam's wrists. The sergeant ignores Sam mostly, but he's surprisingly adamant about his DI needing freedom of movement. Annie adds her rational voice, and the doctor finally caves. Once the leather straps are gone, Sam's chest feels a lot less tight, making it easier to breathe. Ray leaves without a further word, but Annie stays, placing her palm on the back of Sam's good hand. He glances at her then looks back up at the ceiling. He doesn't flinch away, or withdraw his hand. For several seconds, Sam is tempted to remain silent, to hope that the “thank you” can remain unspoken. But he has made a decision, and he plans to go through with it, and no excuses or delays.

 

So Sam says it out loud.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Annie looks surprised, but only for one moment. Then she smiles, squeezing his hand a little.

 

~*~

 

Sam doesn't tell Annie that Gene came to see him, however. The nurses do. So now the whole station knows. When Annie asks him about it, Sam doesn't answer. This is something he isn't ready to talk about to anyone, not yet. She tries to start that conversation one more time, but after that doesn't insist. Gene is staying away from the station, and Sam doesn't seem to have sustained any further injuries, and that apparently is enough for her for that moment.

 

However, once Annie starts to talk about things outside of the hospital, Sam listens to her. Actually listens, for once.

 

She notices it – the fact that he is actually, properly looking at her when she speaks, that he's properly taking in the words. It encourages her. She tells him of all the things that have happened, that are happening at the station. Of the interim-DCI who gets the job done just so, but is very boring altogether, and a bit of a nonce really. Of the last darts tournament. Of the new WPC who she thinks is very promising, and whom she is going to encourage to stay with the force, and maybe make it as far as WDS one day. And, after a bit of hesitation, she talks about how they arrested Anthony Miller. That he's facing a long prison sentence. That Sam's been cleared of all charges.

 

Sam listens, nods, engages. Starts asking questions. Soon, Annie telling stories becomes Sam and Annie talking about gossip, and then discussing cases. At first, she is hesitant to go into details on the work they are doing at CID at that moment, Sam can see it in how her brows crinkle up slightly, in how her gaze flicks over his bruise-mottled chest. But he insists anyway, keeps asking. Theorising whenever Annie does drop a sentence about a case. It seems to encourage her, the fact that he's very calm and collected about it all, and then, about one week after the removal of the straps, she brings by the first case file. Sam could kiss her then. Instead, he smiles, and after a brief pause Annie smiles back, in a relieved sort of way.

 

~*~

 

It is a day after that – nearly two weeks after The Incident – that Annie attempts to ask him about it once more.

 

“Sam, I... I understand if you can't, or don't want to talk about it yet. But I still, I 'ave to ask... what 'appened? With you and... and DCI Hunt.”

 

Sam notices how she doesn't say “the Guv”. He looks to the side for a moment, as if to find the right words written on the wall. Of course, there's nothing there. Exhaling audibly, Sam lets his gaze settle on Annie again.

 

“We were both being very stupid.”

 

~*~

 

To everyone's surprise, Sam is discharged from hospital three weeks after his admission. Well, Sam isn't surprised. To the contrary, he's been hoping for it. Annie is there when he limps out into the reception area, his bag hanging awkwardly off his good shoulder – but not for long, because Annie reaches out and takes it, not listening to Sam's protests.

 

“I'll drive you 'ome, and no complainin'.”

 

So Sam stops complaining, instead resigning to his fate with a little sigh and follows Annie outside slowly. He has to move slowly, since walking with a cane isn't something he's used to. But then she looks at him funny, and he looks right back at her, and she starts to say something but stops herself, instead opening the door of her car for Sam. The drive to his flat is eventless; they chat amicably.

 

~*~

 

Sat on Sam's bed, Annie looks down at her mug of tea, evidently trying to say something, but not quite knowing how to do it. Sam is quiet, just looking at her, holding his respective mug. He thinks he has an idea of what is bothering her, but he knows this is one of the cases where he just has to let her think, get started in her own time.

 

And she does, not too long after silence settles between them.

 

“Sam.” Annie looks up there, straight at him. “Are you alright?”

 

Sam raises his eyebrows, then looks down at himself. “... well. Considering? I suppose I am.”

 

Annie doesn't seem convinced, though, not remotely. “You know what I mean... I know you're well on the mend. I just...”

 

“... you just...?”

 

After a moment of silence, Annie exhales. “... well, y'know. You're not talkin' to anyone about what 'appened that day in Lost and Found.” _Not even to you, is what you mean, isn't it, Annie?_ “I, I get that it's hard, I really do... I just think you should talk about it. Get it off your chest.”

 

Now it's Sam's turn to exhale audibly, leaning back in his arm chair – carefully. “I did tell you.”

 

Annie looks at him, her eyes seeming to search for something in his neutral expression. Then she lowers her gaze. “DCI Hunt's not been seen since the night 'e came to your room.”

 

“Oh?” Still keeping his expression neutral. “No one's gone to check on 'im? What about Ray, or Chris?”

 

Annie merely shakes her head. Sam is surprised, but at the same time, he isn't. Not really. He doesn't need to ask why they are staying away from their Guv.

 

“So all you have are the facts.” Sam takes a sip of his tea, watching Annie while he does so. She nods, her eyes locked on his again.

 

“Just the facts.”

 

They fall silent, then – it clearly is Sam's turn to talk, and he's taking his time.

 

Finally, his voice soft, he says, “As I said – I _did_ tell you.”

 

That draws a small scoff from Annie. “You told me you'd both been stupid, and with all due respect, that much was evident.”

 

Sam actually chuckles at that, something like sadness stirring within him at the same time. “I suppose. Well, erm...”

 

He pauses again, gathers his words.

 

Then, he tells her. And she listens. He tells her not about what happened, not about the searing pain, about nearly going mad with fear and regret and anger.

 

No, Sam tells Annie about what he'd been thinking right before the interview. He tries to explain to her what Gene may have been thinking. Not that he knows, of course, but... Sam knows his DCI. He should have remembered that fact at that moment, really.

 

And Sam tells Annie about his decision. To prepare her, so that she can prepare the department. She looks at him as though he's insane – but really, he's used to that, isn't he. He'll have to wait a few more days before he can carry out his plan, but Sam is determined to do it.

 

And, after a good couple of hours of discussing, throwing arguments back and forth, Sam calmly defending himself – after a couple hours of that, Annie finally agrees that Sam's plan may well be the best line of action.

 

“Only because it's DCI Hunt we're dealin' with, though,” she adds, giving Sam one of her intense looks, chin slightly bowed. Sam nods.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Gene learns by word of mouth that Sam has been discharged. There has been nothing about what happened in the papers, which surprises Gene. At the same time, it's a relief to be able to still go and buy booze and pink wafers without being stared at with varying levels of hostility. He's had enough of that in his past.

 

And sometimes, when he considers it safe, Gene even drops in on Nelson. Nelson's a good bloke – Gene can talk to him, and there's just something about him, something that makes Gene think that he understands everyone and everything. In any case, it's Nelson who tells him that Sam is out of hospital, finally. Has been for several days, in fact.

 

Gene nods at this, downing his pint and leaving Nelson to his own devices. No use in hanging 'round, even though that's all he does these days. It's been weeks since he temporarily stepped back from his post, and it's getting bloody boring. He'd have thought that an investigation would have been launched by now – but judging from the absence of press in all of this, it seems like the Super is trying to keep a lid on the whole thing...

 

Gene isn't sure what to think of this. And that is not good, because he ends up thinking a lot during these weeks. There isn't much else he can do, really. Hang around at home. Watch the telly. Stand by the window. Think. Go for the occasional walk. Drink. Think. Drink less. Shove furniture about to change the view once in a while. Think. Watch more telly.

 

Think and think and think.

 

Gene doesn't really like thinking. And he never seems to come to conclusions either. Is that because he's so used to not-thinking? He usually just... _does_ things. It's better that way. Gut feeling has always served him well.

 

Except for that one time it didn't.

 

There, now he's thinking again.

 

In his arm chair, Gene gives a grunt. It's been nearly a week again since he spoke to Nelson. Over a week since Sam's been discharged. He finds himself hoping that the little twonk is recovering well. Gene hasn't permitted himself to think about their encounter at the hospital. He'd said so much more than he meant to say, but that's that. End of story. Done and dusted. The only thing that remains doing is to find out whether he'll be forced to move forces. There's always been talk that the Met need all the officers they can get, but so far no one has dared to outright suggest Gene should go down there. Like hell he would anyway. Those southern sissies wouldn't be able to keep up with his way of policing, would jeopardise his every step. And besides, Manchester needs him.

 

Although, it seems to have been doing fine without his help for the last few weeks...

 

Gene pulls his face into a pout. Rathbone's taking too much time. He'll call him up right now. Getting up from his armchair, Gene stretches for a moment, before--

 

The doorbell rings. Insistently. One long ring, and then a short blip following up.

 

Gene stands frozen in place for a few seconds. He isn't expecting anyone, and no one's been taking any interest in him. Logically speaking, it could be the mail man or a salesman or some other twat wanting to waste his time.

 

However, his gut is twisting with anticipation and something else that Gene isn't ready to name for himself.

 

The doorbell rings out again, and Gene realises he hasn't moved from his spot yet. Christ, what is he, a fairy-arsed pansy? No, he's the Manc Lion, and he'll be damned if he'll let himself be intimidated by a ruddy doorbell.

 

Gene is by the door within moments, strides long and decisive. He reaches for the key, turns it very deliberately, and opens the door wide.

 

Within the next few seconds, he sees the following things in quick succession:

 

Sam, a fist, stars.

 

~*~

 

They're sitting in Gene's lounge. Both of them sitting, though opposite each other and with something that feels like a safety gap. Sam is flexing the fingers of his previously unhurt hand – that punch really hit home, as Gene can wholeheartedly confirm. The side of his face is still throbbing viciously.

 

Normally, he would have given as good as he got, and more.

 

As it is, Gene picked himself up off the floor – accepting the punch for what he thinks it was - and let Sam step inside, mildly surprised by the fact that Sam readily followed the silent invitation and walked past him, into the house.

 

Sam is staring at his hand now, fingers still flexing slowly. He looks faintly perplexed, but other than that his expression remains neutral, strangely unreadable. Strangely, because Gene is usually able to read Sam's face so well. Since he's not spoken up yet (hasn't, in fact, spoken since he arrived), Gene takes the time to properly observe him. And there is quite a lot to be observed indeed.

 

For example, the way Sam holds himself: Even for his standards, he's sitting very upright, very... controlled. Everything about Sam is controlled, even more so than usual. It nearly feels like a different man altogether is sitting opposite him. Part of that posture is probably the injuries, Gene figures, but... He can't shake the feeling that it will take a while until he gets to see Sam as he's meant to be again. If he gets to see him again at all.

 

Injuries. There's Sam's arm in the cast. With so many weeks having passed, there seem to be no visible bruises left – but Gene is looking at Sam very closely, and he does spot more traces of the beating. Like that scar to the side of his forehead. Or before, how there was the faintest limp to Sam's step, barely noticeable. Gene finds himself hoping that this is only temporary.

 

All in all, though, Sam doesn't look as bad as Gene realises he'd been assuming Sam would. Been looking after himself, it seems. Cartwright probably helped with that as well.

 

Another thing Gene observes, is Sam's face. Sam isn't looking at him, is still staring at the carpet – and that in itself is a small miracle. Gene has known victims of vicious beatings who wouldn't be able to keep their eyes off the perpetrators when confronted with them, registering every little twitch, ready to bolt. However, for all his stiffness, he has to give it to Sam that he's calm. Surprisingly so. Gene shifts in his seat, and Sam doesn't react.

 

That's good. It has to be. Gene doesn't usually allow himself to be hopeful – takes whatever comes as it does, meeting it head on – but this time... this time, he hopes. Hopes that Sam is indeed well on the mend.

 

Sam, who is now suddenly looking at him. Gene doesn't twitch, but the look in Sam's eyes gives him pause.

 

For all his stiffness, those eyes have a spark to them. Still do.

 

It seems to have dulled somewhat. No, not dulled – Gene knows for a fact that it had gone, for a while. It must have been rekindled, and then carefully nursed. Its intensity is nowhere near the level he's used to, nowhere near that flame that sometimes damn near burned Gene.

 

But, it's better than nothing. In fact, it's bloody marv--

 

“I really don't see what you enjoy about this.”

 

Gene starts. Blinks.

 

“You wha'?”

 

Sam shakes his good hand in response. “It 'urts.”

 

Gene stares.

 

“Although,” Sam continues, not quite looking at him now, “I'll give you one thing – it felt good, the first moment.” At that, Sam's gaze is fully on him again. “Only the first moment, though.”

 

Gene can't take his eyes off Sam. When the words leave his mouth, it's almost as if another man, someone other than Gene, rasps them out.

 

“What's your point, Tyler?”

 

“My point is.” Sam pauses, tilting his head a little. So controlled. “My point is,” he tries again, voice a bit fainter, “my _point_ is – why, Gene?”

 

_Why_.

 

That question.

 

That question no one has dared ask him, not even he himself.

 

Figures it would be Tyler, having the courage to plonk a mirror down right in front of Gene, leaving him with no choice but to look inside it.

 

Only, of course, it's not Gene who is looking back at himself, it's Sam sodding Tyler. With that spark. All inquisitive stare, eyes even narrowing now, but other than that maintaining an admirably neutral expression.

 

Gene leans back slowly. His eyes never leave Sam's.

 

What does he say?

 

Strangely, the thought that he could just refuse to answer never even crosses his mind.

 

He's got to start _somewhere_.

 

Gene exhales. Right.

 

“Right.”

 

Takes a deep breath, settles a bit more comfortably into his chair. Sees that, maybe unconsciously, Sam does the same, as far as he's able to.

 

Gene pauses, gathers his words.

 

_I thought you'd betrayed me._

 

~*~

 

By the time dusk begins to fall outside, Gene's living room is starting to fill with shadows as well. None of the two get up to switch on the light.

 

They are still there when the only light in the room is coming from outside, is in fact the shine of the street lamp filtering in through the curtains – still sitting there, talking and falling silent again, the silences stretching for indefinable amounts of time.

 

~*~

 

Sam doesn't walk home that night.

 

Gene drives him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title, as usual taken from Atomic Rooster's "Decision/Indecision".


	7. Back Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All in all, business as usual.

They'd placed bets on who would come back first.

 

Most thought it would be the Guv, all flapping camel hair coat and authority and maybe then everything would be right again. Maybe.

 

Then there were those who thought neither of them would come back. The Boss would definitely transfer, most of the detectives and plod agreed on that. As for the Guv, maybe he'd be pensioned off. Maybe he'd go down south, to London. Annie had even found out the name of one station asking specifically for DCI Gene Hunt (“Fenchurch East?” Ray had asked in disgust. “What sorta pansy name is  _that_ ?”).

 

Chris placed his money on the Boss anyway. Gut feeling.  _Ninja instinct_ .

 

And then, one morning, when for once most of the detectives had come to work at roughly the same time, they'd found DI Tyler, sitting at his desk, reading a file, a steaming cup of tea within reach of his good hand. He'd looked up, right at them. Chris will forever remember that moment.

 

“You're late,” the boss had said. But he hadn't sounded angry or anything, he'd just stated a fact.

 

No one had said a word.

 

~*~

 

DI Tyler had explained to them what was going to happen. He'd been talking to the Super, stressing (that was the word he used) that he wanted to stay with CID. The Super had been more than happy to let him, from the looks of it.

 

Then he had told them about the Guv. That he'd stay away for a couple days longer, to let the team finish the investigation into The Incident (the Boss's words, that). That DI Tyler had been talking to him, that they had settled things between them. That there'd been misunderstandings, miscommunication (another one of the Boss's words), but it had been resolved. DI Tyler didn't hold a grudge against DCI Hunt. They'd go back to working as a team.

 

That night, celebrations at the Arms exceeded Chris' wildest fantasies.

 

~*~

 

And now the Guv is growling at the Boss and the Boss is snapping back, Annie watches them silently (but with what Chris would, after a bit of hard thinking, call exasperation), Ray doesn't seem interested, and the rest of the detectives don't really know what's going on.

 

Neither does Chris, to be honest – how is he ever supposed to keep track of what his superiors fight about? - but he doesn't particularly mind. He's used to it, and that's alright. It's the way it's been before, and he's happy that now they are back to how they were.

 

Except then Chris hears a small rattle and he looks up, to see that Annie has moved closer to the two – The Guv has grabbed the Boss's lapels. For a moment, the both of them freeze, and Chris thinks that this might actually become a spot of bother...

 

But then, the Guv lets go, forcibly, exclaiming “Sod this for a prozzie's knickers, we 'aven't got time for this!”

 

“There's _always_ time for an extra look at the files, Guv – there 'as to be!”

 

They continue arguing. Chris turns back to his paperwork, because the Boss told him to go over the witness statements once more.

 

All in all, business as usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual: The chapter title (as well as the title for the fic itself) has been taken from Atomic Rooster's "Decision/Indecision", a song which I seem to be obsessed with.
> 
> In any case - it's over now! Thank you SO MUCH for sticking around till the end, and for all the lovely comments. I hope you enjoy these last two chapters as much as I enjoyed writing them. <3


End file.
